


To Make Our Escape

by jugandbettsdetectiveagency



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, serpent Jughead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 15:37:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11039151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jugandbettsdetectiveagency/pseuds/jugandbettsdetectiveagency
Summary: The war between the North and South sides of Riverdale is beginning to take its toll, and Betty's not sure if they'll make it through together.





	To Make Our Escape

Betty sighed as she gripped her phone harder, pressing it closer against her ear as it continued to ring. She felt like she heard the incessant noise so often lately that it was ingrained into her head. Her lower lip began to tremble and she pulled it between her teeth, biting down hard to hide the motion. She wouldn’t cry, she refused to cry. 

 _“This is Jughead, leave a message.”_ The clipped tone of her boyfriend’s voicemail settled heavily over her heart. 

They promised they’d try. They told each other, whispered into the creases of each other’s skin shrouded in the shadows of FP’s trailer, that this wouldn’t change anything. It showed in the way Jughead would drop his jacket every time she stepped foot in his line of sight, relieving his shoulders of the leather burden that Betty could feel across her own back like a crushing weight whenever she glimpsed the green and red embroidery.

She thought it would be a relief to see him remove his newly accrued armour in her presence, peeling back the layers he’d so sardonically told her he was in possession of that one night in a Pop’s booth, until he was her Juggie again. But, if anything, it only set her more on edge, confirming the sneaking suspicion that he was playing two sides now, both feet sinking in quicksand and spread across a rapidly widening chasm.

For the first few weeks he’d shown up outside the front step of Riverdale High, leaning against his dad’s truck, one leg casually crossed over the other, as he waited for her to finished cheerleading practice or work on the Blue and Gold. His dark curls and deep flannels stood out against the white snow, beckoning Betty towards him with a magnetic pull that had only been increasing in strength the longer they remained together. If she thought about it, she’d always felt that feeling. 

Even when she was little, Jughead would always be there. Betty chastised herself for not realising it sooner, in the moments when they were asleep in his childhood bed. She pressed herself tightly against his warm side as she watched his eyelids flutter, face beautifully relaxed and slackened in sleep. Running her fingers across his soft cheek, over his parted lips, Betty had memorised every quirk in his features; the way his mouth permanently tilted at the corner, how one nostril was slightly bigger than the other, every single perfect placement of the moles and freckles against pale skin. The pads of her fingers continued their travels, over his sternum, barely brushing his chest. Jughead stirred slightly, nose scrunching adorably as she tickled him with her feather-light caresses. Whenever she’d cried over Archie, or tucked herself into a corner beneath the wooden slats of his tree house, he’d find her. Sitting somewhat awkwardly beside her, he listened as she talked without interruption, letting the dam finally burst. He was always bringing her back from the edge, the one she’d been tiptoeing along for as long as she could remember. And now it was her that was making him fall between the cracks of the town, pulled under by the current of North versus South. 

The first time he missed a pick up he’d text her. He had _stuff_  to take care of. Betty was well educated enough in cinema and literature to know ‘take care’ was never code for anything desirable. She chewed her lower lip all through practice, tearing the skin until it tasted metallic against her tongue. Cheryl snapped at her more than once for being distracted but she didn’t have it in her to be ashamed for making them run late. Her fleecy, pink jumper had just settled back over her shower-flushed skin when her phone buzzed in her locker. 

 _Pop’s? Twenty minutes?_  The familiarity of the words, knowing he was safe enough to text her, relieved some of the choking tension in her chest. She hurried to collect her things, scrambling with her bag as she flew down the hallways, icy wind hitting her damp hair and making her shiver as she stepped through the front doors to an empty parking lot. 

Betty’s fingers were nervously playing with the straw of her vanilla milkshake when the bell above the door finally signalled his arrival, hair dishevelled and distinctly beanie-less. She blinked, so used to another sight that it took her aback for a moment. She didn’t even notice the jacket at first. He slid in opposite her, not before leaning down to place a chaste kiss to her cheek, cold lips against flushed skin sending a shiver down her spine. He grabbed a handful of fries from the basket in the centre of the table, offering her a smile as he chewed. 

“Sorry I couldn’t make it earlier,” he offered in way of apology, choosing not to expand further. The rustle of leather on vinyl caused her eyes to snap down suddenly. He followed her gaze, lifting his arm slightly as he looked down at himself, as if unaware that he’d put the clothing there himself. He squirmed uncomfortably under her steady eyes, tugging at the lapels in a way that made Betty think he couldn’t decided what to do with himself. 

“It... It’s cold, Betts,” he muttered, as he chose not to discard the garment, fingers whitening as he gripped at the fabric. 

“I didn’t ask you to take it off,” she replied, voice light and indecipherable. He narrowed his eyes slightly. She widened hers. He nodded, not quite sure whether he was being played. 

“Okay,” he said slowly, running his fingers through his dark waves. 

“You’re not wearing your beanie,” she stated, not raising her voice in question. Jughead sighed, looking out of the window as he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, scraping the skin roughly. 

“What we’re just gonna sit here and discuss my wardrobe now? Was Veronica too busy for that conversation?” he snarked, tone holding more venom than he’d intended to shoot her way. She started, uncomfortable prickle spreading throughout her body. Shame replaced the hardness around his eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbled, dropping his gaze to the tabletop like a scolded toddler. She blinked a few times, fists uncurling, shaking her shoulders and straightening them minutely as she stood. Jughead’s eyes snapped up, mouth parting in fear as he expected her to leave. She rounded the table, tapping his bicep in an indication for him to move over. He did so, arm winding round her waist as soon as she was settled beside him. Her fingers lifted to his hair, running through the free curls, fingers scratching delicately against his scalp as he let out a mild hum of appreciation. 

“Just means I get to do this,” she smiled, ducking her head to meet his nervous blue eyes. He lifted the corner of his mouth in return, gaze flicking from her eyes to her lips before they leant towards each other, pressing their lips together in a light but reassuring kiss. 

She almost missed him the first time he showed up to take her home on his bike. He was leaning against the side, timid smile gracing his lips as he caught sight of her honey gold hair. 

“What’s this?” she asked, slowing her steps as she cautiously approached the vehicle, eyebrows knit in concern. Jughead turned to look over his shoulder, as if confirming that she was seeing what he was seeing. A hand came up to rub the back of his neck nervously. 

“Err, it was a gift. Some of the guys needed the truck and I still wanted to pick you up. I didn’t think you’d mind,” he shrugged, eyes gentle but still guarded. 

 _The guys_. The phrase bounced uncomfortably inside Betty’s head, the casualness causing her to bristle. 

“I-I don’t know, Juggie,” she said cautiously, looking at the shiny chrome and thinking it reflected in the same way as the black ice currently coating the Riverdale roads. Jughead sighed, standing to his full height as he placed a palm on each of her shoulders.

“Come on, Betts. It’s fine, I know how to drive it. You’re safe with me,” he coloured his words with a little more meaning that just road safety. “Live a little?” he tacked on, raising an eyebrow in challenge at her as his mouth quirked into a smirk. She rolled her eyes, shifting her weight from foot to foot as her mouth pulled into a betraying smile. He kissed her slightly wrinkled forehead before mounting the bike, holding out a hand to help her on behind him.

Her fingers ached by the time they made it to her house, stiff from the cold and the unrelentingly tight grip she’d had on his shirt the entire ride home. Sure, there was an element of freedom in the feeling of frigid winds combing its way through her hair, making her eyes stream as they blew through the town. But there was an hint of uncertainty in it all, some wary part of Betty’s brain clicking into overdrive as she felt every jolt, wobble and vibration beneath her. 

The most disconcerting thing, she thought as she was watched Jughead speed off down the street, glad her mother wouldn’t be home to hear the loud revving of the engine and come to investigate, was how at ease Jughead had seemed. He gripped the handlebars with a practised finesse. His back was free of any kind of tension. He weaved easily through the traffic, slipping almost like a dark shadow across the streets of the Northside, only noticeable due to the bright golden light that clung to his waist. 

It should have made her happy, that Jughead was finding his place in the town that had thrown nothing but hardship after hardship at him since he could walk. But she couldn’t let go of that _feeling_  that a storm was coming, ten times bigger than the one that had already swept through their sleepy town life. And it might have something to do with the fact that she was caught in an unwinnable standoff with the unblinking eyes of a threaded snake the whole ride back.

He didn’t pick her up anymore. Hell, he wasn’t even allowed to come on school property, especially not on his bike, branded with the emblem of a much despised gang. When she had asked him, with little questioning in her voice anyway, if he was there he hadn’t been able to meet her eyes. But the blossoming bruise forming over his right cheekbone, swelling his eye slightly, and the blood on his knuckles already gave Betty her answer. 

The local news was already reporting it - in fact, it was all they were reporting. It was the biggest blow out between the North and South sides that Riverdale had ever seen. Tensions had been boiling, pressure building up until no one could take it anymore and things just snapped. 

“They are _dangerous_ , Jug!” she yelled, ponytail swinging as she shook her head at his disagreement. 

“They’re like my family, Betty, they’re the only people who have offered me protection...” She cut him off, her own blood beginning to boil like that which was currently running through the streets, getting washed into the drain by the ongoing thunderstorm that had burst through the heavy clouds. Her voice rose above the pounding of raindrops on the trailer’s roof. 

“You call this protection?! You’re hurt, Jughead. You were thrown into the middle of a town-wide fist fight, and that is supposed to be protection? Your idea of family is pretty messed up if you think-” She cut herself off abruptly, eyes widening in panic as he visibly recoiled from her words. “I didn’t mean...”

“Yeah,” he laughed humorlessly. “You did.” He nodded to the ground, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. “And you’re right, it is _fucked up_.” He met her eyes and the lack of anger there stole her breath. She ached to take the few steps that separated them but her legs wouldn’t move. “But isn’t it always?” he asked, defeated. Tears pooled along her waterline, over-spilling with little warning, leaving hot, itchy trails down her cheeks. She wiped them away furiously, material of her sweater scratching her skin red.

“You promised me, Jug. You said that this wouldn’t change anything between us,” she lamented, voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t just the fact that he didn’t turn up to take her home, didn’t fetch Fred’s ladder to climb through her window anymore. He didn’t talk to her anymore. She could feel the hard shell he’d broken his way out of to be with her resealing around him, stronger than before. He shrugged his shoulders once. 

“I guess I lied,” he murmured. 

Neither of them was willing to let go. She’d cleaned his knuckles, pressed ice to his forehead and whispered soothing words to him as he curled around her while he fell asleep that night. But Betty knew you couldn’t escape the inevitable forever. 

The beep of the voicemail echoed in her ears. 

“Jug,” she sighed, hating the way her voice hitched. She took a breath before trying again. “Jughead, I haven’t heard from you all week. I’m really worried and I think... I need to see you, in person,” she choked out, casting her eyes to the ceiling in an attempt to keep the tears from falling. She didn’t want to cry anymore. She ended the call, flicking off the light in the Blue and Gold office before shutting the door and making her way to the exit. 

Her breath caught in her throat as she looking up from the top step of the high school. There, in the parking lot a few feet away, was Jughead Jones. _Her_  Jughead. He was leaning against his dad’s truck, one leg casually crossed over the other as he looked up at her, deep circles beneath his eyes. His beanie was planted firmly on his head, hands shoved in the pockets of his denim, sheepskin lined jacket, tired smile trying to tilt his lips upwards. 

“Juggie,” she breathed as she made her way towards him with slow, evenly paced steps. 

“Happy Birthday, Betts,” he murmured. Her shoulders collapsed with a disbelieving laugh.

“You remembered?” she asked, coming closer still. His brow furrowed. 

“How could I forget?” he told her, hands reaching out to her timidly. She settled herself between his legs, palms coming up to rest against his chest, rubbing the fabric of his shirt between her fingers. “It’s the most important day of my year, “ he finished with unwavering conviction. Betty tilted her head, warmth spilling in her chest. 

“Jug,” she whispered with a wry smile. He looked down, fingers tightening around her waist, as if his touch could stop the words from coming. 

“I know what you’re thinking, Betty. And I’m hoping that you’ll just wait, and come with me,” he asked, looking up at her from beneath his lashes, eyes desperate. She’d go anywhere with him, at least there was a time when she thought she would. 

“Okay,” she heard herself saying before she could even think. Apparently, she still would. They climbed into the truck, Jughead biting back his relieved sigh; he wasn’t out of the woods yet. 

They drove in silence, Jughead leaving his palm upturned in the hopes that she’d lace her fingers with his. When she did his shoulders relaxed, bringing her knuckles to his lips to lay a delicate kiss there. He drove towards the river, parking up next to one of the trails that led into the woods and turning off the engine. 

“Is this the part where you kill me?” she joked wearily, turning her teasing eyes from the trees to meet his. He smiled at her, letting out a laugh at her ability to still make jokes before opening his door and hopping out. He gathered up the blankets and the cooler from the bed of the truck and walked round to meet Betty. 

“Come on,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of the trail. They walked, again in silence, only the rustling of wildlife and the rushing of the approaching river disturbing their quiet. Betty gasped as they broke through into a clearing just a few paces back from the river, not as deadly looking in the early spring. Tiny lights had been strung up throughout the branches, creating a million different constellations as their warm light bounced off the green leaves, trees just beginning to sprout blossom. Jughead shook out the blanket, placing the cooler down on top before settling down himself and opening his arms to her. She went to him, nestling between his bent legs, back to his chest, heartbeat over heartbeat. He pulled a milkshake out of the cooler and handed it to her. They sat for a moment, watching the moving of the water, cocooned in their private sanctuary. 

“This was really nice of you, Jug,” she thanked him after a while. His arm tightened around her, as if he was sensing she was ready to flee. “You didn’t have to.” She picked at the styrofoam of her empty cup. 

“Yes I did,” he interrupted hurriedly. “You’re my girlfriend, this is what boyfriends do,” he smiled into her hair, remembering conversations with her that felt like a lifetime ago. He felt the vibrations of her chuckle against his front. He licked his lips, suddenly dry.

“Betty, I’m sorry. I was scared that if I kept you as close as I wanted you that you’d get pulled in too deep as well, and it would be my fault if anything happened to you.” He pulled in a shaky breath. “I couldn’t give you up but maybe if you...” She twisted in his arms, eyes searching his. “I just wanted you safe,” he finished lamely instead. Her cool palms cupped his flushed cheeks. 

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you too, Jug,” she implored. “And we were in this together, from the start. At least, I thought we were...” Betty’s confidence wavered, her hands beginning to slip from his skin. His fingers wrapped around her wrists, holding them there.

“We are, we still can be. This,” he cast his eyes around the clearing. “Is to show you that Riverdale isn’t the be all end all. It doesn’t have to be the way it is, we can change it, make it better. One day,” he swallowed, clearing some of the thickness in his throat. “One day we could make it out, together.” Betty let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding, leaning forwards to press a bruising kiss to his lips. His was thinking of a future - it was what she didn’t realise she desperately needed to hear. 

“Also,” Jughead murmured after they’d parted. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet bag. Betty took it with shaking fingers, tipping the contents into her flattened palm. The tiny ring glinted in the lights. The silver metal was thin and light, a tiny three pointed crown making up the emblem on the front. She drew in a breath, picking the delicate jewellery up and slipping it onto her finger. She met Jughead’s eyes, his cheeks covered in a deep blush. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m _claiming_ you or anything. But... I just wanted to give you something, as a reminder. I’m forever yours, Betty Cooper. Even if we’re further apart than we’d like to be right now, I’m still yours.”

Tears spilled down Betty’s cheeks and for the first time in months she didn’t mind that she was crying. Because Jughead Jones was hers, she was certain of it. And she was his. 


End file.
